


To be Laid Upon the Children

by DetectiveIdiotBoy



Series: Idiot Savant [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Plot, Some Fluff, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveIdiotBoy/pseuds/DetectiveIdiotBoy
Summary: “Just… promise me something, okay?” Nate said after he'd slung MacCready's arm over his shoulder. The merc was still wiping spit from his jaw as he staggered away from the bush he'd thrown up in.“Yeah?”“If I don't make it out of the Institute alive, please… just go back and see him,” Nate said. “At least one of us deserves to go home and be with their son again.”---Nate has disappeared into the hold of the Institute. After nearly a month, almost everyone assumes he is dead. MacCready decides that high time he stops avoiding the inevitable and go home to see his son, but even in death, Nate has always been good at getting in the way of MacCready's plans.
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready & Male Sole Survivor, Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine
Series: Idiot Savant [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031331
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. Go home, MacCready

**Author's Note:**

> Another installment in this strange story! Yay!!! 
> 
> I'm not entirely sure where I'll stop with this little AU of mine. I can't think of anything in particular that happens after this one, but I do have a few ideas of middle stories I might put to paper one day. Ah well, for now, enjoy!!!

MacCready stood outside the blue house in Sanctuary Hills, coat catching vociferously in the turbulent winds. He could barely get his cigarette lit as the weather tried its damndest to put the lighter's little flame out. Maybe it was a sign for him to quit - Lucy herself might as well be jumping out of the clouds to snatch the little cancer stick from between his teeth and snuff it out. The air rushing past his ears was shrill and angry, reminding him of every shameful act he'd committed since he'd come to the Commonwealth. The weather was an omen, for sure. 

Or maybe he was just nervous about going home. 

With the winds being like they were, MacCready had half a mind to delay his journey another day, but he had put this off long enough. How long had it been now since he and Nate had mailed off the cure? Two, maybe three months now? Long enough for MacCready to receive half a dozen letters detailing his son's recovery. Duncan was back on his feet and eating full meals again. His condition had reversed practically overnight; from the moment he was injected with the miracle medicine he'd been getting better. MacCready should have gone home as soon as the first letter arrived. He should have been there to help Ducan recover, instead of leaving all the work of being a true parent to someone else. In the end, MacCready was a selfish bastard, just like always.

_ “You shouldn't talk about yourself like that,”  _ Nate had said when MacCready mentioned this particular bit of personal angst. It had been coaxed out of him by a night of celebrations and one or two too many shots over his tolerance level.

_ “It's true,” _ MacCready said, vision swimming.  _ “Duncan is probably better off without me anyways.” _

_ “You went to hell and back for the kid, pretty much literally,”  _ Nate said with a short chuckle.  _ “Not to state the obvious, but you've pretty much won the Parent of the Year award.”  _

_ “Is that a real thing?” _ MacCready asked as he poured himself a fifth or eight or eleventh shot of moonshine. 

_ “Nah, but if it were you'd be nominated for sure,”  _ Nate said.  _ “I appreciate everything you've done for me, I really do. Without you, I would have  _ never  _ made it to Virgil's cave alive.”  _

_ “You're damn right you wouldn't've,”  _ MacCready snarked, then coughed.  _ “Shit, language- I mean- dammit- …fuck.”  _ The two men burst out into drunken giggles before Nate pulled the conversation back on track. 

_ “Look, I just think you should head back down south. See your kid, figure out what you want to do now,”  _ Nate said, pulling all his remaining sobriety into the conversation. MacCready remembered clearly the way that Nate fingered the rim of his shot glass, looking into the last drops of liquor that he couldn't manage. Such a lightweight, that one.  _ “I don't know how things are gonna go tomorrow. I don't even know if tomorrow is going to be the best, worst, or last day of my life. All I know is I'm going into the Institute - and either coming out with my son, or I'm not coming out at all.”  _

_ “Or the molecular… whatever blows up on you in a spectacular fireworks show and traumatizes everyone watching,”  _ MacCready pointed out.

_ “That is… a possibility too,”  _ Nate made a face that MacCready could only guess was disturbed.  _ “But let's be real here- I'm too lucky to go out like that.”  _

_ “Fair point,”  _ MacCready shrugged. Nate looked at him, brows lowered on his face and mouth pulled back into a line. 

_ “I just don't get why you don't want to go back and see your son,”  _ Nate finally said.  _ “After everything you've done to protect him…” _

_ “That's just it,” _ MacCready said, curling up around his drink just a tad.  _ “I want to protect him - from me” _

_ “Bullshit,”  _ Nate lifted his shot glass and finally braved the dregs at the bottom. He shuddered as soon as it hit his tongue.  _ “I can't honestly believe that you would ever let anything happen to that kid, much less cause him trouble yourself.”  _

_ “Yeah but…”  _ MacCready sighed, too drunk to find his words.  _ “I'm not- I'm just… I'm not the same person I was… when I left him.”  _ MacCready took his shot slowly, too unsteady on the barstool for sudden movements. The liquor hit his alcohol-saturated stomach and for a moment he swore he could feel his liver sag pitifully like an over-filled sponge.  _ “Back then I hadn't killed anyone who didn't have it coming. I hadn't… murdered… anyone…” _

There was silence between them. MacCready knew, even at the time through his drunken stupor, that Nate probably wasn't the right person to be confessing his sins to. Last time that happened it had ended with Nate using his past to drive a dagger right into the exposed chink in MacCready's emotional armor. Being vulnerable was MacCready's number one weakness, and he had sewn his heart right on his sleeve for that conversation. MacCready reasoned it was too late for restrain then - in for a cap, as they say… 

_ “I just don't want him to hate me, _ ” MacCready murmured. 

He had been expecting silence, or maybe some sort of condolence or empty sympathies. A little part of him expected Nate to be upset, or sarcastic, or just to dig at the fact that MacCready had admitted to what Nate had always suspected. MacCready had been a gunner, which meant that, for those few months he'd sold his soul, he'd done what gunners do. He expected that Nate would be disgusted; a part of him even craved it.

What he _wasn't_ expecting was for Nate to come off the barstool to wrap his arms around MacCready's middle. 

_ “He's gonna love you, MacCready,”  _ Nate said into his ear. MacCready was ashamed to admit he cried and had long since decided to blame it on the alcohol that he had overindulged with (and then threw back up in copious amounts on the walk back to Nate's home from the bar).

That had been the last time MacCready had seen Nate. MacCready hadn't gone to the teleport site the next morning to see Nate off - he wasn't one for goodbyes, and he had a feeling Nate understood that. At the time they had all hoped to hear back from Nate within the week, but there had been radio silence for over a month. Not a single settlement had seen him. Preston still seemed to have hope that Nate was still alive, but MacCready had long since accepted the truth as it was - they were never going to see that happy bastard again. 

Since then MacCready had been hanging around Sanctuary. Nate had promised him the house while he was away, and MacCready had decided to take him up on the offer. There wasn't any reason for him to be doing gigs out of Goodneighbor these days; not with Duncan well cared for and work drying up thanks to the Brotherhood of Steel, _again_. Preston wasn't the best company, but he was tolerable and his settlers were decent people who kept MacCready fed so long as he helped out around the town. MacCready kept his hat firmly tugged down over the faint outline of his gunner tattoo that he had worked so hard to remove. Quincy had been the final straw in MacCready's gunner career; he didn't think he'd seen Preston there, but he didn't want to chance any recognition from him or any of the other settlers. 

When asked about his plans, MacCready told Preston that he was still waiting for Nate to come back.  _ “He asked me to take care of the house while he was gone, right?”  _ Part of it was not to break Preston's poor, fragile heart by bringing up the fact that Nate was almost certainly dead by now. The other, much larger part, was because MacCready didn't want to leave - because there was only one place that made sense for him to go now that there was nothing left for him in the Commonwealth. 

_ “Just… promise me something, okay?”  _ Nate said after he'd slung MacCready's arm over his shoulder. The merc was still wiping spit from his jaw as he staggered away from the bush he'd thrown up in. 

_ “Yeah?”  _

_ “If I don't make it out of the Institute alive, please… just go back and see him,”  _ Nate said.  _ “At least one of us deserves to go home and be with their son again.”  _

MacCready hadn't made the promise - or at least, he didn't think he did. There was very little of the night he clearly remembered, if he was honest - but the words still hung around him with an air of shame that just added to his mounting guilt. He was living in the man's home, living off the good grace's he'd accumulated, and he didn't even have the decency to follow the one request Nate had made of him. 

At least, not until now. Better late than never.

MacCready gave up trying to get a light on his cigarette after his lighter went out a third time. He reluctantly flicked the little tube to the ground and crushed it with a boot. No more stalling; He'd put this off long enough. By now Daisy's caravan had delivered his letter saying to expect him home next week, and he'd left the key to Nate's house in the mailbox just like he'd told Preston he would. 

_ "You'll always be welcome back here, Mr. MacCready,"  _ Preston had said when MacCready told him it was time for him to leave. 

_ Bet you wouldn't say that if you knew who I really was,  _ MacCready thought. The tattoo scar burned on his forehead every time he saw the guy. 

The sun wasn't yet over the horizon, but the sky twinkled with the first light of a gray dawn on an overcast sky. MacCready needed to get moving if he wanted to get to New Haven before sundown. With one final sigh, he shoved himself off the porch steps of the old world home he'd inherited and started his trek down south. 

It took MacCready exactly ten steps outside of Sanctuary's gates to run into trouble. 

“Pardon me,” A man in a black leather coat wearing black sunglasses said. “You are Robert Joseph MacCready, correct?” MacCready could sense danger from the guy the moment he saw him approach from Red Rocket Station; he knew this wasn't going to end well. MacCready took his hand down from shielding his from the intense wind to shove it down into pocket in a casual motion - then turned the safety off on the pistol he had concealed there. 

“That all depends on who wants to know,” MacCready said, lip curling up in a show of aggression. “Even if I am, I don't have time to take any jobs right now. There's no shortage of mercs in the Commonwealth, bud. Find someone else.”

MacCready was ready to shove past the man when his shoulder was seized. The movement was faster than MacCready could react. His heart stuttered in his chest and he damn near shot his own leg with the pistol he had in his fingers. 

“You should release your grip on your firearm,” The stranger advised in a cool monotone that was just audible over the howling wind, “it is entirely unnecessary, and would have little effect on my ability to dispose of you - even if that was my mission.”

MacCready's mouth was almost in a full, indignant snarl when he yanked himself backwards, attempting to dislodge the creep's hand from his shoulder. The fingers didn't budge.

“If you're not here for a fight, then what do you want?" MacCready snapped. “'Cuz if you don't let go of me right now, you're gonna have a goddamn fight.”

“I am a courser, designation X6-88, sent to retrieve you as your assistance has been requested,” The person said. 

“I thought I already said I’m not doin’ work in the Commonwealth anymore,” MacCready snapped. 

“Your compliance is not a factor,” X6-88 replied calmly. With such a monotone voice and such a weird name, MacCready had already guessed that this guy was a synth, though that was confirmed outright by his next statement. “The Institute has requested your presence, and it will have you, one way or another. Please do not resist.” 

“Forget that,” MacCready turned on the balls of his feet, snapping his elbow up and into the synth’s face. He caught his nose and sent X6-88 stumbling back just a step, yet the fingers digging into his collarbone remained fast around him. MacCready pulled his handgun from his pocket and fired off four shots into the synth’s abdomen. 

“ _Gha-_!” X6-88 cried, and with the fingers slackened just enough, MacCready turned tail and headed back across the bridge towards Sanctuary. Okay, so maybe leading an agent of the Institute back into a crowded settlement was not the most selfless of choices, but there was no way he was fighting this guy on his own. MacCready knew power when he saw it; he was going to need help to take this creep down. Barely armed and without armor as he was, fighting alone would be suicide. MacCready was not going to promise his son he’d be home by summer only to get abducted by some shadow organization. 

Unfortunately, that plan was cut short when MacCready was tackled face-first into the ancient boards of the Sanctuary bridge. He put his arms out at an angle to catch himself, but the synth behind him snatched his wrists mid-fall and sent MacCready sprawling with his nose taking the brunt of the blow. It wasn’t broken, but the impact shocked him even through his heightened, reactionary haze. 

Panic became him, and with a knee pressing into the center of his back, MacCready realized just how much danger he was in.

“ _ Hey-!! _ ” MacCready screamed, voice as loud as he could make it. He had hoped to get the attention of at least one of the Minutemen in the city, or even Preston if he was awake. In these dark morning hours, there were very few settlers who would have the bad sense to be out and about. Sadly, over the rushing river and stirring wind, not a soul hear him. MacCready would have shouted again, but his mouth was filled with leather as the gloved hand of his attacker fitted over his face. 

MacCready thrashed, yelling despite the muffled tones. His pistol was out of reach, but his hands were free and he reached around to claw at X6. One hand held his mouth shut, the other pressed down on his shoulders. MacCready was trapped, and the familiarity of the situation was so  _ striking _ it nearly made him freeze out of pure terror. Without being able to do more than snatch at his captor’s coat, MacCready resorted to clawing the boards under him. 

X6-88, for his part, hardly seemed to notice MacCready’s struggling. The man spoke calmly, not even winded after sprinting at least a hundred yards to catch MacCready. 

“This is X6-88, ready to relay with one human passenger.” 

MacCready had no idea who the synth was talking to, or what any of that meant. The word ‘relay’ stuck out to him - he’d heard it before, somewhere. Before he could remember where, he felt a lurch in his stomach and was blinded by a bright flash like lightning. MacCready tried to curl up and away from the light, but only managed to smack his head against the ground. His forehead rested against smooth, unweathered metal that was completely out of place for anywhere in the Commonwealth. 

The hand left his mouth and MacCready looked up. He wasn’t in Sanctuary anymore. Instead, the world around him was indoors and made of chrome white metal. Two men in lab coats stood in the center of the room behind a desk covered in flashing lights and monitors. MacCready stared at them, slack-jawed and mute. 

Relay… oh right. That’s what the weird ex-Institute scientist called teleporting, wasn’t it? That meant this place he found himself all of the sudden was probably the Institute. It was an oddly calm thought, despite the disturbing contents.

“Good work, X6,” One of the men said, completely ignoring MacCready as he was hauled to his feet with his arms held firmly behind his back by the synth. "You've completed your mission in record time. The director will be pleased." The other scientist looked at MacCready wearily, nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed. It was a look MacCready was used to, but somehow seeing it from someone so clean-cut and regal made MacCready feel all the more exposed and small. 

“Get the Wastelander decontaminated and then have him wait with the other; Father will be by shortly,” The disgusted scientist said. Now that he was the subject of discussion, MacCready was snapped out of his stupor and spoke up.

“H-hey, wait a minute,” He said, addressing the pair who refused to look him in the eye. “J-just what’s going on here. Where is he taking me?” 

One of the scientists opened his mouth but the other cut him off quickly. “Don’t address him - outsiders do not possess the mental capacity to understand us anyhow. It’s better if you learn to ignore their demands now.” 

“Oh _fu-_ _screw_ you!” MacCready shouted. “Where the hell am I? What do you want with me?” He was loud, using his entire voice despite the small room. The two humans in the room cringed and MacCready found his mouth indignantly covered again by a gloved hand. MacCready thrashed, trying to shake the fingers from his lips. It did less than nothing. 

“I will keep him silent for now, but I may suggest that you have him gagged if he is to stay long,” X6-88 calmly stated from behind him. “This one is particularly loud.”

MacCready yelled into the glove, but was once again ignored.

“That won’t be necessary,” came the reply. “He is to meet with Father and his father when they return from their meetings.”

“Understood,” X6-88 said. MacCready felt a shove from behind him as he was walked along through the room. “I suggest that you do as you are told while you are here, and behave yourself.” The synth spoke in MacCready’s ear. “While my orders were to bring you in with minimal physical harm, there are plenty of ways to mend broken bones if I find it necessary to take a more drastic route to secure your cooperation.” 

MacCready yelled something crass under the hand gagging him that didn’t translate to actual words. He yanked his hands and attempted to strike the synth in his middle to absolutely no avail. He was shoved forward past the pair of scientists, forced to walk with X6 or be dragged along. 

By the time they were through the door, MacCready had given up. Even if he got away there was nowhere for him to go. The Institute was deep underground, and it wasn’t like either of those assholes at the desk were going to help him. He saw laser rifles strapped to their hips, and he could only guess what they would do with those if MacCready somehow broke free. 

MacCready was guided into a glass tube that turned out to be a fancy elevator running through the Institute proper. There was an entire city behind the sterile walls and clinical atmosphere. MacCready saw men, women, and even children walking about, dodging gen-2 synths who were carrying out janitorial work and manning stations. The walkways were pristine, dotted with carefully cultivated trees running along the sides and leading to apartment doors with large windows that MacCready could clearly see inside of. It was like something out of an old-world magazine, or a comic book. It felt as though it couldn’t be real - like seeing a dinosaur walking along the freeway or a lion in the middle of Boston; things like this just didn’t exist anymore, not in his world. For just a moment, MacCready forgot all about his peril and was enraptured by the sight. 

“It is impressive, is it not?” X6-88 said, hand never coming away from MacCready’s mouth. “The Institute is humanity’s crowning achievement. The greatest minds left in the world have come together to build this civilization. The irradiated filth above couldn’t hold a candle to all that has been created here.” 

That managed to zap all of MacCready’s wonder and awe. First of all, the Institute was responsible for countless tragedies all along the Wasteland. No amount of lush trees and clean clothes could change that. Second, MacCready was no stranger to underground civilizations. Little Lamplight was a tiny little hellhole that barely managed to keep itself from falling apart, but it held together by desperation and maintained by kids who wouldn’t - and couldn’t - live anywhere else. It held a candle to this place alright; for all the blood, sweat, and _work_ that went into making that place home, it was practically a bonfire compared to these cowards who hid behind technology while terrorizing the Commonwealth. MacCready was not about to let himself feel inferior to these people. 

The synth must have noticed the shift in MacCready’s posture because he spoke up. “You need not understand our ways,” X6-88 said, “I very much doubt you will be here long. It is unlikely your stay here will last more than a week.” 

And wasn’t that just a sobering statement; Somehow, MacCready doubted that he was going to be let go when the Institute was done with him. The elevator reached the end of the common area and descended back into the ground. MacCready’s heart pounded with anticipation and dread. Cold sweat pooled at his brow and fell down the side of his face. Crap.

Despite it all, MacCready hadn’t yet accepted his fate. When the Institute came for someone, it never ended well for them. No one had ever seen the inside of the Institute and lived to tell the tale, not even Nate. It was unlikely that if anyone was going to be the first to escape their clutches, it was going to be MacCready, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight like hell the moment he had half a chance. 

He’d promised his son he would be home in a week, and by god, MacCready was done breaking promises. 


	2. Unexpected and Familiar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive any mistakes I've missed in posting lol. I'm editing this chapter on my phone :3

Of all the things MacCready had been expecting to find behind the door he was so roughly shoved through, a synth and a kid playing checkers was not one of them. 

“Nick?” MacCready said, still getting his feet under him as the door snapped shut behind him and locked. There was only one synth in the Commonwealth who looked that trashed and wore a trench coat and hat. As far as MacCready knew, Nick Valentine hated the Institute just as much as everyone else, so what on earth was he doing smack in the middle of their undegeround society? 

“MacCready?” Nick said. He placed the red checkers piece he was holding back on the board and stood up. Behind his back, the kid took three of the pieces on the board in a single move, completely ignoring the two adults in the room. “What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” MacCready said, still unsure of how to feel about seeing Nick in the Institute. Of all the bad luck in the world, could it really be that the metal detective was a spy all along? 

“I got grabbed last night by some guy in a black coat. Said the Institute ‘required my assistance.’ He didn’t take too kindly to being told no, so one blackout later and I wake up here,” Nick explained. 

“It’s your turn, Mr. Valentine!” The kid spoke up eagerly. Nick glanced back at the board and moved one of the pieces without even pretending to think about it. Being a machine had some advantages, it seemed, like being able to play a game of checkers without thought. 

“Same thing happened to me,” MacCready said as he approached the table and took up a chair between the two checkers players. “I was on my way back to the Capital when some guy attacked me and teleported me here.”

“Dark skin, cropped hair, glasses, leather coat?” Nick asked. 

“That’s the one,” MacCready replied. “Said his name was X... something or another.”

“X6-88,” Nick confirmed. “He didn’t rough you up too bad, did he?” 

“Nah,” MacCready said, noticing again the slight ache in his nose where his face hit the ground. “He dragged me around a bit and made me take a bath, but other than that it’s been a surprisingly warm welcome for the Institute.” MacCready had been more than a little hesitant to strip naked in enemy territory, but to his astonishment the courser had really only wanted him to take a shower. He wasn’t even probed a little. He’d had to pitch a fit to get his clothes back - he absolutely _refused_ to wear the white jumpsuit those creeps tried to shove him in. The slight turn in his stomach told him that there had definitely been RadAway in the water they’d doused him with, but other than that things had been way too normal for being kidnapped by the Commonwealth’s personal boogeyman. 

Nick made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. The kid took another move on the board, then looked up between Nick and MacCready as if noticing them both for the first time. MacCready smiled and gave the kid a small wave. No point in being rude to a child; Even if he was part of the Institute, as evidenced by his tiny version of their uniform, he was way too young to be complicit.

“Hey,” MacCready said. “Don’t mind me, I’m just watching the game.” The kid seemed shy, and turned away from MacCready to address Nick.

“Who is he?” He asked nervously.

“Shaun, this is MacCready,” Nick introduced them, “MacCready, this is Shaun.”

MacCready recognized the name immediately. 

“Shaun?” MacCready said. He stared at the boy with sandy hair and deep blue eyes - the resemblance was there, for sure, and the kid looked about the right age. “As in… Nate’s Shaun?”

Despite nodding to confirm the statement, Nick’s face remained grim - even more so than usual. MacCready laughed regardless, smiling to himself at the news. Nate’s kid was still alive! Alive and apparently unharmed - whether the same could be said for Nate was another matter. Shaun reacted to the shift in tones and smiled alongside him excitedly.

“You know Mr. Nate too?” He asked innocently. MacCready’s giddy smile fell just a fraction. ‘Mr. Nate’ sounded way too formal for a kid talking about their parent…

“That’s right,” Nick answered for him. “MacCready’s a good pal of Nate’s. The two of them used to work together before Nate showed up here.”

“That’s so cool!” Shaun said, looking at MacCready with metaphorical stars in his eyes. “Did you fight Deathclaws too??”

“Uh huh... yeah, once,” MacCready said, still suck on the kid’s choice title for Nate. It was at least true that MacCready had once fought a Deathclaw - only a few months ago, too, when Nate had walked them out into the Glowing Sea. Things had been going relatively well until Nate tripped, fell into a hole, and woke up the sleeping lizard. It wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to be thinking about at the moment, however. 

“That’s so cool!” Shaun continued. “Father told me that Mr. Nate’s seen all kinds of things on the surface, but he won’t tell me anything about it. Mr. Nate says that it’s too scary for me.” 

MacCready blinked, frown officially back on his face. It was clear that ‘Father’ and Nate were two different people to Shaun. There was a mix of emotions in his chest that he couldn’t quite sort out. On the one hand, from the way Shaun was talking it seemed that Nate was still alive, which was good - and on the other hand, someone else had already taken the paternal role in the kid’s life. From the way he was talking, it sounded like Shaun had no idea who his real father was. That was heartbreaking on so many levels; MacCready could already feel vicarious misery from Nate.

“Shaun, mind if I step aside and chat with MacCready for a minute?” Nick said.

“Aw, but we didn’t finish the game!” Shaun complained. Nick grabbed a piece from his side of the board and traveled across it in a series of eight jumps, cutting Shaun down to only a single piece. 

“King me,” Nick said, already rising to his feet. 

“No fair!” Shaun said. “You tricked me.” 

“That’s part of the game,” Nick said. “Set the board back up and we’ll play another round in a minute.” 

“Okay,” Shaun said reluctantly. Nick motioned for MacCready to follow him to the other side of the sparse room, and he obliged. 

“So, Nate’s still alive,” MacCready stated rather than asked. Nick had stopped by in Sanctuary once or twice to ask about Nate. He’d seemed as worried as everyone else when Nate failed to return from his mission down under. The relief that MacCready felt knowing Nate was still alive was probably shared by Nick, at least.

“As far as I can tell,” Nick said softly, keeping his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I haven’t seen him yet. Shaun’s ‘Father’ has been keeping him busy with something. I only know what the kid’s told me - the people here weren’t exactly eager to explain things to an old discarded synth.” 

MacCready was frustrated by the answer, but only because he’d received the same non-explanation, so it seemed they were both still in the dark about what was going on here.

“You think they brought us here because of Nate?” MacCready asked.

“There’s only one thing all three of us in this room have in common,” Nick said. “So either we’ve hit the jackpot of coincidences, or this has everything to do with our mutual friend.” 

“Fair enough,” MacCready said, pinching his nose where he felt a headache coming on. “Christ - how is it everything has to turn out to be an absolute nightmare with that guy?” He asked no one in particular. Nick shrugged. The old synth’s fingers twitched like he was craving a cigarette - MacCready could relate, even if neither of them were selfish to light up in a closed room with a kid present. “So, any idea who Shaun thinks his ‘Father’ is?” MacCready asked. 

“From what I’ve gathered, ‘Father’ is the title for the director of the Institute,” Nick said.

“Huh,” MacCready said. “Yeah, I think I heard someone mention that on the way in.” 

“I’m not sure if Shaun thinks of the guy as his father, but he sure talks about him as if he were,” Nick continued. “He doesn’t have any idea who Nate is in relation to him, though.” 

“Maybe this is a different Shaun?” MacCready suggested. “It’s not the most uncommon name in the world.” 

“Look at him - the resemblance is uncanny,” Nick said. MacCready glanced back at the boy at the table, who was staring at the checkers board and shifting pieces around inattentively. “Add to it the fact that all three of us have been put in a room together, and that leads me to believe the Shaun Nate’s been looking for and the Shaun here are one and the same.” 

“I can see the logic in that,” MacCready said, then frowned. “That still doesn’t tell us what the Institute wants from us.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Nick said grimly. “On that front, I’m afraid we’re just going to have to wait and see.” 

“Any idea what we’re in for?” MacCready asked. “I mean, you were built here, right?” 

“I was,” Nick confirmed, “But I don’t remember much - and what I do recall isn’t exactly promising.” 

MacCready swallowed, nerves making a spectatural reentry to his emotional stratosphere. Nick must have picked up on his coagulating panic and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“No use getting worked up about it now,” Nick said. “Odds are they aren’t planning on taking either of us apart; they’ve had far too many opportunities since we got here.” MacCready nodded, putting a lid on his own bubbling mortal terror before it boiled over into panic. “We should probably operate under the assumption we’re being watched,” Nick said, voice barely above a whisper. “Places like this were all over before the war. They hide cameras around so they can keep an eye on their ‘subjects’.” 

“Right,” MacCready said, deferring to Nick’s expertise on the matter. He’d heard rumors that Nick was a copy of someone from before the bombs, and with all the craziness surrounding synths he was willing to take that as fact. 

“For now, we just gotta keep calm and wait for Nate to show up,” Nick said. “I’m willing to bet as soon as he knows we’re here he’ll find a way to pay us a visit.”

“If they tell him we're here,” MacCready pointed out.

“Come on, this is Nate we’re talking about,” Nick said, a smirk breaking the grim frown that held his face. “If they don’t tell him he’ll eventually try to turn on a light and accidentally download the entire Institute’s security footage into his PipBoy.” 

Despite it all, MacCready laughed at the image. “Yeah, I can see that happening.” He said with a shrug. He was immediately grateful that the Institute hadn’t locked him up in a cell alone. The room he was in wasn’t much better than an unusually clean prison - it was small with only a table, a few chairs, and a shelf full of boxes - but at least he had someone with him who could talk him through this and keep him from clawing at the metal paneling in desperation. Being kidnapped was nothing new to MacCready, but it certainly didn’t bring back any fond memories. 

“Shaun,” Nick spoke up suddenly. Shaun looked up from the table with an excited grin, happy to once again be included in discussions. “Got any games for three players?” 

“I think so!” He said, jumping from the table and rushing over to the shelf in the corner. “I’ve never played any games with other people before.” The kid pulled out a small stack of board games, some of which MacCready recognized from his days in Lamplight and the few he’d bought for him and his own kid. 

“Let’s keep ourselves distracted while we wait,” Nick said, leading MacCready back over to the table. “Ever play ‘Blast Radius?’” 

MacCready snorted, falling back into his seat at the table. “All the time as a kid.” Shaun was already unpacking the ancient board game that looked good as new; MacCready was willing to bet it still had all the original pieces. 

When he’d started his day by getting abducted by the Institute, MacCready never thought it would end by playing board games with Nick and Shaun. This morning he’d been certain Nate was dead and MacCready had been on his way to see his own son, now he was certain his friend was alive and staring directly at the man'sson. It was a weird turn of events, to be sure, but as Nick said, there wasn’t much for them to do besides wait and see what happened next. 

So, still just barely warding off a full-blown panic attack, MacCready picked up the dice and started explaining the rules to Shaun.


	3. Unbeknownst to him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! This chapter is SUPER short for me - I didn't even notice until I edited it because so much happens. Ah well - hope it's still enjoyable <3
> 
> Btw, I mentioned this on my other story, but [I got a Tumblr now!](https://detectiveidiotboy.tumblr.com/) Come on over and say hi! Now, back to your regularly scheduled angst :3

When Nate walked through the door over an hour later, It was the first time MacCready had seen him in over a month. Nate looked exactly like he remembered - though the hair was a bit longer, covering his ears now instead of cropped neatly behind them, and he had grown a short, scruffy beard that somehow suited him - but his eyes were still just as sharp as ever, and the moment they met MacCready’s he felt his heart skip in pure relief.

“Nate!” MacCready said, standing up from the table. It barely registered when an old man walked in behind Nate, arms clasped behind his back. “Glad to see you still kickin'!” MacCready said with a laugh between words. “I’m pretty sure even Preston was ready to put up your headstone by now.” 

Nate didn’t respond to MacCready. He held his gaze, and MacCready noticed for the first time the dark sink in the skin under the other’s eyes. Another second later and MacCready took in Nate’s full appearance all over again. He was wearing an Institute uniform about a size too big for him, the folds of the fabric sagging in odd places. His frame was thinner as if he’d been starved for several days, and his hair wasn’t just longer, it was greasy and matted against his scalp. MacCready’s smile faded immediately, and he heard Nick take in a breath behind him. 

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Nate said sharply. MacCready flinched before he realized he wasn’t the one being addressed, despite Nate’s hollow eyes boring into his. “You’re blackmailing me now.” 

“Of course not,” The old man behind him corrected. “I merely thought that the presence of a few of your… acquaintances might help you come to a more acceptable conclusion.”

“Sounds an awful lot like blackmail to me,” Nick said distastefully. The old man looked at him curiously, as if Nick were little more than a terminal with an error prompt. MacCready felt indignant on his behalf, though he was sure there were plenty bad moods to go around. 

“Rest assured, I have no intention of harming your associates,” The old man addressed Nate. Nate refused to look at him, though his eyes finally left MacCready to look at Nick, and then fell dejectedly on Shaun. 

“Father?” The kid said, looking not at Nate but at the old man instead. Something in MacCready’s heart snapped, and in an instant, he understood why Nate was in the state that he was.

The old man eyed the child with an idle curiosity in his eye and nothing more, “S9-23, Recall Code Cirrus.” The words had an instant effect on the kid, and MacCready watched in horror as his eyes widened and he fell face first into the pile of game cards he’d had stacked in front of him. 

“ _ Shit _ !” MacCready exclaimed, rushing across the room to check on the child. He wasn’t breathing, eyes still open and staring out ahead at nothing. MacCready snarled, looking back up at the old man who seemed almost uninterested in what was happening to Shaun, save for the slightest hint of amusement behind those piercing eyes. “What the  _ fuck  _ did you do to him?” MacCready yelled.

“MacCready, it’s alright,” Nate said, finally addressing him. MacCready turned his head to look at his friend, who was also completely undisturbed by Shaun’s sudden apparent death. “He’s fine.” 

“No, he’s not! He’s- he’s not breathing!” MacCready yelled. How was he the only person in the room upset by this? Didn’t Nate care at all about the wellbeing of his  _ son _ ?

“Your paternal instinct is quite impressive,” The old man said. MacCready grit his teeth like a wild animal; he probably looked more ridiculous than intimidating. “However, the child merely a pet project of mine. It is a synth replica, nothing more.” 

“You're one sick bastard, you know that?” Nick said. It seemed MacCready wasn’t the only one glaring daggers at the twisted old man in a wool vest and white jacket. “You kidnap a man’s son and then send him back with a clone. Where’s the real Shaun.”

Nate looked positively  _ miserable _ as the old man, who MacCready could only presume was the one known as ‘Father’, chuckled. “Would you care to tell them, or should I?” He asked Nate mirthfully. Whatever humor he found in the situation, it was not shared by Nate, and upon realizing that Father’s own smile fell just a fraction. He cleared his throat. “Well. Anyways,” He said, straightening his back to assume the dignified posture of the Institute director once more, “I suppose you are all wondering why I have gathered you here.” 

“You’re damn right I am,” MacCready snapped. “You’d better let us go, old man, or I swear to god I will make your life a living hell!”

“Calm yourself,” Father said, holding up a hand. “As I have stated, I have no intention of bringing harm to any of you.” 

“Can we trust him?” Nick asked Nate, ignoring Father just as the man ignored him. Nate nodded, and that seemed to be enough to ease Nick’s concerns some. MacCready didn’t always trust Nate’s judgement when it came to people, but with nothing else to go on, he crossed his arms and decided to listen. 

“I want answers, old man,” MacCready crossed his arms but refused to sit back down and let the director of the Institute tower over him. “Why are we here?” 

“Your friend and I have been... discussing the future of the Institute since his arrival here,” Father explained. “He had been fairly open-minded thus far, however, there is a lingering reluctance to explore more… tactile methods of assisting us.”

“ _ Nate _ is helping the Institute now?” Nick said skeptically. “I’m sure that has absolutely nothing to do with how your goons kidnapped his son.”

“It has everything to do with that, actually,” Father replied cryptically, “but he is not under any duress, if that is what you are implying.” 

“It’s complicated, Nick,” Nate said, exhaustion holding his every syllable. “Really,  _ really _ complicated.” 

“I’ll bet…” Nick said. “So what’s this got to do with us?” 

“I’d like to know that too,” Nate said to Father. “Where do you get off abducting my friends like this?” Despite the fiery words, there was no heat in Nate’s voice. MacCready had never seen him so worn down before.

“The Institute has had its eyes on your adventures for quite some time,” Father told him. “It was my belief that if outfitted with a more  _ familiar _ team, you may be more amiable to our request to help us reclaim our stolen property?”

“Can somebody translate that for me?” MacCready said, already done listening to this pompous jerk. 

“Father wants me to go hunt down one of his runaway slaves,” Nate said. “I told him no. Twice. I guess this is his way of not taking a hint.” 

“We've been over this - a synth is not a _slave_. I can’t understand why you are so being uncooperative,” Father said, just the slightest hint of frustration breaking into his otherwise emotionless voice. “I’ve watched you fight and execute raiders with extreme prejudice in the past. What does it change if one of them is a synth?” 

MacCready’s brain finally caught up with the situation as the conversation continued. His arms uncrossed immediately as he realized. “Wait, hold up,” He said, cutting off the back-and-forth between Nate and Father, “let me see if I got this straight. You want us to track down some raider guy and put one in his back.”

“I would prefer that the unit be recovered alive - but essentially, yes,” Father said. MacCready almost laughed - and then he  _ did _ laugh.

“Hell, then I don’t see what the problem is,” MacCready said. “Nate and I do that practically every-other-weekend. If that’s all you want you could have just  _ asked _ . No need to drag us all the way down here.” 

“MacCready,” Nate said sympathetically, “It’s not that simple-”

“No, shut up,” MacCready said, pointing a finger at his friend. “I’m getting out of here, one way or another, and if all I gotta do is kick some raiders ass- if I gotta kill some random raider, then that’s what I’m gonna do.” MacCready turned back, looking at Nick who was back on his feet as well. “Nick? You good with this?”

“After everything they’ve done, the last people I want to help would be the  _ Institute _ ,” Nick said distastefully, spitting the last word as if it was physically painful for him to say, “but if it gets us all out of here unharmed, then I’m willing to cooperate.” 

“Perfect,” MacCready turned to Father. “So, do we have a deal, old man?” 

Father smiled, and MacCready got the impression he’d just done exactly what the old man wanted. “I suppose we do,” he said, glancing back at Nate, “provided that you all agree on this course of action.”

Nate took a deep breath and let it out with a miserable sigh. MacCready was immediately sorry for him, but not enough that he would back out of the agreement. Nate was a father, he would understand. He was the one who pushed MacCready into heading back home, after all.

Finally, Nate looked up, eyes firm and upset. “Fine,” He said, dejected. “You win. I’ll play your game.” 

“Wonderful,” Father said, still smiling in spite of - or maybe even because of - Nate’s depressed attitude. “I’ll call a couser tomorrow to accompany you to the surface and relay instructions. It is entirely up to you how you will make use of it.”

Nate glared at the old man, and the old man looked back at him with a patient, affectionate-yet-sad gaze that MacCready couldn’t possibly begin to explain with what he knew about the situation. The glare broke as Nate’s face fell into an abjectly miserable expression and he closed his eyes. “You remind me so much of her,” He said, reminiscent. He opened his eyes back up to stare at the old man. “I’m glad she died before she ever had to meet you.”

The statement must have struck a nerve with Father, because his smile was instantly gone. “Well, I certainly didn’t inherit my intelligence from  _ you _ ,” He said, turning back towards the door. “I’ll leave you to catch up with your friends. They are free to spend the night in your apartment before we send you back in the morning.”

The man placed his hand on a pad by the door and it opened, and he lingered there for just a moment, looking back at Nate with an unreadable expression. “I will see you tomorrow morning, father,” He said. “I do hope you come to understand in time that what we are doing here is for the best.” 

“Goodbye, Shaun,” Nate said, not even bothering to look at Father as he slipped through the door and left them all behind. MacCready and Nick were left in stunned silence as the door closed and Nate walked over to the table in the center of the room. He sat down, pressed his head into his hands, and began to cry. 


	4. A difference of eight and eighty years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% thrilled with how this chapter came out, but ah well.   
> This is all I have written at the moment, though there might be one final follow-up in the main storyline later. I do have at least one more side mission written that takes place between Sins of the Father and Everyone Dies - that one will be out next week :3
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

“There’s no way. It’s just not possible,” MacCready paced the room, stomping and gesticulating as he ranted. “He’s lying to you, Nate. You’re being manipulated!” Albeit terribly, since Nate seemed more hostile to his supposed ‘son’ than receptive. 

“It’s the truth,” Nate said in a hollow monotone. “I made him take a paternity test.”

“A  _ what _ ?” MacCready snapped, tired of feeling stupid and surrounded by people who knew things he didn’t.

“It’s a DNA test- a blood… thingy that tells you if you’re related to someone,” Nate explained with a frown. “I watched the whole thing; he’s my son. He’s Shaun.” 

“Jesus,” Nick muttered, chin resting on his hand and fingers covering his mouth. “Of all the messed up things I’ve seen, this has got to be up there.” 

“I still don’t get how that’s possible,” MacCready said, leaning back against the wall behind him with a  _ thump _ . “The guy’s ancient.” 

“I had no idea how long ago Shaun was taken,” Nate shook his head. “I shouldn’t have just assumed Kellog’s memories were accurate. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up like that.” 

“You don’t mix up eight years and  _ eighty _ , Nate,” MacCready snapped. “And that isn’t even the point here! The guy looks  _ older  _ than you - so unless you’re a hundred a fifty years old, that guy  _ cannot  _ be your son!” MacCready threw his arms out in frustration and stared at Nate, whose eyes were firmly locked on the ground. 

“Two hundred and forty,” Nate replied simply. 

“What?” MacCready said, impatient.

“I’m two hundred and forty years old, not a hundred and fifty,” Nate said. MacCready crossed his arms once more across his chest.

“Come on, Nate,” MacCready said with a roll of his eyes. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe that.” The thought of the picture and the weird room in Nate’s house wormed its way back into his head, but he shoved it aside. He hadn’t gone back into that creepy room since he’d accidentally broken into Nate’s house, not even while he was living there. He would sooner believe that Nate was crazy than that he had actually been alive before the war. MacCready had heard of people who lost touch with reality after experiencing grief, and Nate seemed like a perfect candidate to lose what little marbles he'd had. 

MacCready expected Nick to speak up, to say something to Nate since he was obviously being lied to. Even if Nick wanted to go along with the man’s insane delusions, now was not the time and the middle of the institute was certainly not the place. 

“Nate,” Nick finally said. “Do you want me to explain?” Nate nodded mutely, eyes still glistening. Nick turned to face MacCready. “Nate was born before the war. The Vault he came from ran an experiment on keeping people alive by sticking them in an ice-tube for two centuries. Physically and mentally, he’s thirty, but in reality, he’s closer to my age than yours.” 

MacCready blinked, shoulders falling just a tad. “Oh…” Was all he could manage to say as he stared wide-eyed at his friend. It was a surprisingly simple explanation to all the questions he’d accumulated over the years. Nate’s military training, his odd manner of speaking, the gaps in his knowledge that appeared and disappeared - it all just felt surreal, like something out of a comic book. In fact, it was the  _ exact _ kind of thing he’d read in a comic before. 

“Well,” MacCready said after processing the new bit of information. “That still doesn’t mean he’s your son.” 

“He looks like her…” Nate muttered hands clasped over his mouth. “Nora. I can see it in his eyes.” 

MacCready’s nostrils flared with a sharp sigh, but he bit his tongue. Frustrating as this was, he knew the feeling, and just yelling at Nate to think about this logically was only going to make things worse. Thankfully, there was at least one person in the room who knew how to handle any situation with a modicum of tact, and Nick was willing to do just that. 

“Look, I know you’re going through a lot right now,” Nick said, coming up to place a sympathetic hand on Nate’s shoulder, “but right now we should just focus on our immediate problems; namely getting the hell out of here.” 

“Right… yeah,” Nate nodded. “Though, I think Mac already solved that one for us.” 

MacCready shrugged, feeling just the slightest hint of guilt for his part in playing along with the Institute's plans. As much as he hated being someone else’s pawn, he hated being kidnapped a lot more.

“So what's going to happen when we make it back to the surface?” Nick asked. “We’re supposed to track this guy down and bring him back? How are we supposed to do that - I have a feeling he won’t exactly be thrilled at the idea of a homecoming.”

“They got these… codes, or something,” Nate explained. “We just got to get within earshot of him and say the words and he’ll… shut down.” Nate threw a sad, awkward glance at the synth child still face down at the table. MacCready had been trying to avoid looking at it.

“Well that will make things easy,” Nick said. “Provided we get past the guy’s crew.” 

“That won’t be a problem,” Nate said. “Sha-  _ Father  _ is sending a courser up with me. Honestly, as soon as they send us up you two can head home. The coursers are something else entirely - I’m probably not even required for this mission, I think Father just wants to prove a point.”

“And what point is that?” Nick asked. 

Nate paused for a second, hesitant. It put MacCready on edge; what other surprises did Nate have in store for them today? Finally, he figured out what he wanted to say and spoke. 

“Father wants me to take over the Institute for him,” Nate said. 

“ _ What? _ ” Nick exclaimed at the same time MacCready said. “Are you serious?” To both of them, Nate nodded, eye stuck to the floor as they had been the entire conversation. 

“Father isn’t going to be around long,” He explained, “and for some reason, he thinks that I’ll be able to carry on his legacy here.”

“Why the fu- What makes him think that?” MacCready asked. “No offense, Nate, but you’re the last person I would put in charge of some… underground science city.” That managed to get a laugh out of Nate. It was genuine, but hollow - even still, it was a relief to see some emotion color the man who’d been so uncharacteristically somber. 

“I’m with you on that one,” Nate said, still smiling just a bit. “I’m not exactly the science type, even if this place wasn’t one big monument to everything wrong with the world I came from…” It took MacCready a minute to understand what he meant before remembering that Nate really did grow up before the war. Nate ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know… maybe I could do some good with this place. Make them change, share their technology with the surface world…”

“Something tells me you’ll encounter a lot of resistance doing that,” Nick said, “both from the people down here and up there. There’s a lot of bad blood in the water.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nate said, planting his head back in his hands. “I have no idea what I’m going to do. I just wanted to get my son back.”

MacCready felt his chest tighten once again. He hated it, but he pitied Nate. It felt condescending and rude to feel sorry for a guy like him, but he really did lose everything, didn’t he? His wife, his son, his entire world - MacCready spent almost a year in complete shock after Lucy died. He didn’t speak with anyone, didn’t smile, barely ate - if it wasn’t for Duncan he was fairly certain he would have just stayed in bed the entire time. Nate had lost everything and everyone he’d ever known; his own son was a stranger to him at best and at worse his enemy. It was heartbreaking, for sure, but MacCready had learned a long time ago that he couldn’t afford to waste his energy feeling sorry for anyone other than himself. 

“Whatever you decide, I know you’ll do the right thing,” Nick said, giving his friend a smile. “You’re a good person - better than most.” 

Nate smiled and finally pried his eyes off the floor to look at Nick. “Thanks. That means a lot right now.” 

Something about the way he was looking at the detective made MacCready’s skin itch, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than a beer and a cigarette. “Well, anyways,” MacCready said, shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m exhausted. I kinda woke up early today and it’s been one thing after the other ever since. This place even have beds? Or does everyone sleep in some sort of pod or something?”

Nate snorted, humor slowly returning to him inch by inch. “Yeah. I- they gave me an apartment two floors up. There’s a guest suite next to mine for you two to take up if you want.”

“Well, beats staying here,” Nick said. “Not that it hasn’t been fun, but I’d rather stay in a room with a more variable color palette. White walls give me the creeps.”

“I’m not sure if the apartment will be much of an improvement in that department,” Nate admitted. “But at least there’s a balcony to smoke at.”

“Thank god,” MacCready said, voice reflexing his genuine relief. “I think I’m about ready to kill for a cigarette.”

“Same here,” mirrored Nick. Then he motioned to Nate and said, “lead the way.”

Nate pushed himself up onto his feet and headed for the door, followed by his two companions. It was a long and awkward walk where very little was said, finally ending at an elevator down the hall. The three of them just managed to fit in the cramped space together. As the elevator made its ascent, MacCready finally found his words as his guilt and empathy finally overtook his common sense.

“Nate, I’m-” MacCready began.

“I know,” Nate cut him off. “It’s fine.” MacCready had no idea how Nate could know what he was going to say when even  _ he  _ didn’t know what he was going to say. Still, MacCready clicked his mouth shut and allowed the elevator to bring them up to the residential floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think in the comments, and leave a kudos if you haven't already <3


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